


Love Lessons

by bayoublackjack



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Anatomy, Classic Doctor Who References, Corpses, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dead People, Death, Dissection, Female Friendship, Humanity, Medical School, Multiple Crossovers, POV Molly Hooper, Pre-Series, Prequel, School, Skeletons, St. Bart's, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before they were doctors living and loving in London, Molly Hooper and Martha Jones were medical students at Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry.  In this prequel to my Love in London series, we see how the two doctors became best friends during their university days while dealing with the challenges of love, friendship, family and, of course, academics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In her first steps towards fulfilling her dream of becoming a doctor, Molly Hooper says goodbye to her old life and hello to a new one in London. Along the way, she meets fellow medical student, Martha Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story serves as a prequel to my Love in London series and starts off in September 1997.

Molly Hooper woke up to the sound of a lesser whitethroat chirping outside her bedroom window.  It wasn’t the first time she had been roused from her slumber by a warbler.  In fact, it was quite a normal occurrence and one that she was sure she was going to miss in the coming days.

Molly’s life was full of predictability.  That isn’t to say that nothing unexpected ever happened.  When she was six years old, Molly took in a black and white stray cat that, by the veterinarian’s estimation, lived to be well into his early twenties.  British shorthairs were considered a long-lived breed, but it was still an abnormally long life for a housecat.  Perhaps it was that, coupled with the fact that her mum had given her a copy of T.S. Elliot’s Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats that convinced Molly that Mr. Mistoffelees was magical.  It was a theory that was met with scepticism from both her father and her schoolmates.  As such, she learned to keep such notions to herself.

Molly crawled out of bed and checked her suitcase once more to make sure that the tattered old book of poetry was with the rest of her belongings to be taken along to London.  She had triple checked things before going to bed, but one could never be too careful.  Today was the big day and Molly wanted to make sure things went off without a hitch.  It was the first day of the rest of her life.

Once she was satisfied that she hadn’t left any of her essentials unpacked, Molly quickly hopped in the shower and dressed for the day ahead of her then headed to the kitchen for breakfast.  She set the kettle to boil before seeking out her father.  When she found him, he was sitting alone in his library with a smoking pipe perched between his teeth.  It was empty of course.  He had given up smoking following a hard fought battle with cancer, but he still kept the pipe, mostly out of habit.  On his face, there was a sad expression.  He did that a lot, looking sad when he thought no one was watching.  Probably even more so since her mum had died and left the two of them alone.

Molly cleared her throat gently and her father turned his head towards her with a smile.  It wasn’t forced, but signs of his earlier melancholy lingered behind his eyes.  “All packed?”

“Quadruple checked,” Molly informed him with a quick nod.

“That’s my girl.”

“The kettle is on.  Do you want a cuppa?”

“Might as well,” Mr. Hooper replied as he pushed himself up from his chair.  “It might be my last.”

“Only until December,” Molly insisted as she led the way back to the kitchen.  “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

“Assuming you don’t get seduced by life in London,” her father joked and took a seat at the table.

No matter how strong the draw of London was so much of Molly’s life had been lived in her idyllic little village.  If she closed her eyes, she could see picture it all so clearly.  Having picnics in the meadows.  Taking tea at the Orchard with her mum.  Watching the Boxing Day barrel races.  Punting on the River Cam during the summertime.  Hiking the footpath up to Cambridge with her dad and exploring the university grounds while he gave his lectures.  London definitely had a lot to offer, but some memories just couldn’t be outdone.  “London _is_ exciting,” Molly conceded.  “But Grantchester will always be my home.”

“And you’ll always be welcomed back.”

Molly offered her father a warm smile before focusing her attention on making their tea.  “You know, you could always come up and visit.”

Mr. Hooper huffed and flicked his pipe dismissively.  “I doubt you’d have time with all of your coursework.  And what’s a dusty old codger such as me to do in London?”

“There’s always something on,” Molly replied.  “Museums.  Plays.  Maybe you could ring up one of your university contacts and see if there are any literary events in London.”

“No, I swore that I’d recuse myself from intellectual pursuits when I retired from Cambridge.”

Molly chuckled as she delivered two mugs to the table, handing one to him.  “I don’t believe that even for a second.  I saw that copy of the Cambridge Quarterly on your desk.”

Mr. Hooper clicked his tongue and took the tea.  “You’re too bloody clever for your own good, little girl,” he teased into his cup.

“Who raised me that way?” Molly shot back playfully.

“Your mother did.  I just reaped the benefits,” he answered, his expression growing melancholic once more.

Molly turned away for a moment, perhaps in equal measure to allow him a moment to rein in his emotions as well as for her to do the same.  “Here,” she said and returned to the table with two muffins.  “It’s your favourite, pumpkin chocolate chip.”  She slid one to her father as she took her seat across from him.  “Mum’s recipe.”

Mr. Hooper’s eyes lit up as he stared down at the untouched muffin on his saucer.  “She would be so very pleased.”

“It’s just a muffin, dad.  It’s hardly newsworthy,” Molly retorted with a smirk as she popped a small piece into her mouth.

“Our little Molly off to London to be a doctor,” he said, meeting her eyes.  “I know I’ve never said it enough, but I am unbelievably proud of you.”

Molly stared at him with wide eyes.  Her father had never really been the complimentary sort.  So whenever he doled out praise, it wasn’t to be taken lightly.  “Dad…”  Mr. Hooper held up a halting hand and Molly obediently bit back any further response.

“I’ve always said I could count my proudest moments on one hand,” he continued and counted off on his fingers.  “The date of my first publication.  The day your mother lowered her standards enough to marry me.  The day I received tenure at Cambridge.  And the day you were born.  I reckon I have one more to add to the list now,” he declared before lowering his hand to lift his tea to his lips.  “Good thing I have another free one to keep up with your achievements.”

Molly’s eyes were teeming with tears but she silently willed them not to drop as she absentmindedly picked at her muffin.  She desperately loved both of her parents, but Molly had always been a bit of a daddy’s girl.

Molly was always inquisitive so their shared love of knowledge and driven natures drew her closer to her dad.  As a child, she spent hours upon hours eavesdropping outside of lecture halls and pouring over volumes in the university library.  If not for her love of animals guiding her towards veterinary medicine, she might have considered following in his footsteps and studying English.  In the end, however, it was her mother’s illness and subsequent death that lead Molly to change paths and purse medicine.  She briefly considered apply to Cambridge’s pathology department before deciding that Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry would be a better fit.

Still, Molly couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty about leaving her dad alone.  The cottage seemed so empty the last few years without her mother’s warming influence and Molly worried about how her father would get on without her around to look after him.

“Stop your crying,” Mr. Hooper told her.  “There will be plenty of time for tears when you have real patients.”  Molly bit her bottom lip into submission and nodded quickly.  “Now go dry your eyes so you can finish your tea.  We need to get you to the train station.”

Molly excused herself to her bedroom to sort herself.  After breakfast, she loaded her bags into the car and her father drove her to the Cambridge railway station where they said their goodbyes.  Molly put on a brave face, but by the time she arrived at King’s Cross her eyes were red and puffy.  She popped into the loo to splash her face with cold water before making the walk to International Hall.  The last thing she wanted to do was arrive and have the other first-year students thinking she was too weak to cut it before the semester even began.

Molly found her single study with ease amongst the buzz of activity.  She reckoned she ought to do some socialising since she’d be living with these people for at least the next year, but spent the next couple of hours unpacking and settling into her new environment.  Eventually, she did venture outside of her bedroom for dinner and afterwards she took a walk to learn the lay of the land.  As she passed by the open door of one of the common rooms, she thought she heard someone calling out to her, but assumed that they must have had her confused for someone else.

“Hey,” the voice repeated after Molly had already passed the door.

Instinctually, Molly stopped the second time and turned towards the sound.  “Is someone there?” she asked when she didn’t immediately locate the source.  A girl her age popped her head out of the common room and flagged Molly over.  Molly hesitated for a moment but gave into her curiosity.  “Yes?”

“You’re a fresher, yea?”  Molly nodded in response and the girl beamed.  “Brilliant!  Are you free tomorrow night?  I need a Baby and you seem perfect.”

Molly’s eyes went wide.  “Your _what_?”

The girl laughed.  “Not like that,” she assured her.  “There’s a Spice Girls themed do tomorrow night and we’re short a girl,” she explained.  “You look like you’d make a good Emma Bunton.”

“Oh,” Molly replied and let out a sheepish chuckle.  “She’s my favourite actually.”

“Then it’s perfect!” the girl insisted.  “So are you in?”

“I suppose…but I don’t think I have anything to wear for that sort of thing.”

“Not to worry.  My sister Tish says she has us covered.  She’s in her third year at Goldsmiths studying media and communications.  Loves to party.”

“Are you studying there as well?”

“Me?  No, I’m starting at Barts.”

“Me too!” Molly told her quickly.

“Seriously?” the girl marvelled.  “What are the odds?”

“You’re the first I’ve met in medicine,” Molly informed her.  “The first person in general as well.  I only just arrived in London this morning.”

“Well a few of us were sketching out a game plan for fresher’s week,” she told Molly, gesturing over her shoulder towards the common room.  “Do you want to come and met the gang?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I insist,” she said, taking Molly by the hand and leading her towards a small group consisting of two other girls and a guy.  “I’m Martha, by the way,” she told her with a bright smile.  “Martha Jones.”

Molly met Martha’s smile with one of her own.  “Molly Hooper,” she answered, feeling revealed not to have to go it alone.  “I was worried I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to until classes started.”

“Well then Molly Hooper, if you ever need anything, in true Spice Girl fashion, I promise that I'll always be there,” Martha joked.

Molly gave her hand a gentle squeeze, grateful to have made a friend so quickly.  “Sounds perfect.”


	2. Enjoy It While We Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While partaking in freshers’ week with Martha and the other first years, Molly’s social life takes an interesting turn, especially once she meets another BL student named Owen Harper.

Fresher’s week was coming to the end and Molly was personally glad of it.  She had worn more outlandish outfits, attended more parties, eaten more cheap food, and consumed more alcohol in the past fortnight than she had in her life up until that point and possibly long after.  Incidentally, she had also made more friends than she had at any other point in her life as well.  It wasn’t to say that Molly was particularly antisocial.  She supposed she had always just been a bit reserved in her social interactions.  At least she had been until she met Martha.

“The way I see it, once things really start up, we won’t get a moment’s rest until the end of term,” Martha reasoned as they got dressed for yet another event.  “So we might as well enjoy it while we can.”

Molly could see the logic, but she was still suffering from a bit of social fatigue.  She honestly wasn’t sure how Martha did.  Since their first meeting, Molly had learned that she and her new friend had a lot in common.  They were both serious about their studies and neither of them had had much of a social life up until that point.  One major difference was that Martha was born and raised in London.  And she also had a big family.

Martha had informed her that her parents were divorced, but didn’t offer up anything else on subject.  She lived with her mum after the split, along with her younger brother, Leo, and her older sister, Tish.  Martha insisted that she was the quiet one and once Molly met Tish she learned just how true it was.

It was during a fancy dress party that Molly first made Tish’s acquaintance.  Martha had recruited Molly to be Emma Bunton for their team of Spice Girls, which included Martha as Victoria, and two other BL first years Molly met her first night named Julia Swales and Rita Afzal, who dressed as Ginger and Sporty respectfully.  Tish rounded out the group, showing up dressed as Scary Spice complete with big hair, black mini skort and animal print corset.  She had a mate that was studying at the London College of Fashion who graciously agreed to duplicate the outfits from the ‘Say You’ll Be There’ video with the provision that they sit for photos for her to include in her portfolio.

Molly was immensely thankful she had one of the tamer ensembles.  Julia seemed to be fairly comfortable in Ginger’s clothes, but Rita was still on the fence about bearing her midriff.  As for poor Martha, she nearly refused to leave the residential hall wearing Posh’s catsuit.  Molly and Tish convinced her with a tag team effort by insisted how amazing she looked in it, a fact more than a few blokes at the party were happy to confirm.

One such admirer had been Oliver Morgenstern, who was another Bart’s fresher that Molly met her first night with the girls.  He was a sweet bloke and paid plenty of compliments to the other girls as well, Molly especially.  “Emma has always been my favourite,” he confessed on the dancefloor.

For the next fortnight, Ollie, as the girls had grown to call him, was right there with Molly, Martha, Rita and Julia for all parties.  Tish made appearances more often than not.  Sometimes they had even run into her on accident.

“I thought your sister was in her third year?” Rita questioned when they bumped into Tish during yet another fancy dress do.

“She is,” Martha confirmed.  “She just likes being the centre of attention.  Calls it networking.  She figures she’ll never make it in the world of public relations without relating to the public.  Particularly the _male_ half of the population.”

“Sounds like a girl after my own heart.”  Julia laughed while they watched as Tish sat surrounded by a group of blokes that were seemingly hanging off her ever word.  “How big is her network?”

“Pretty big,” Martha answered.  “This is tame for her.”

“I can imagine,” Molly added.

“So can I,” Olivier agreed, eyes fixed on the elder Jones sister.

Molly was half expecting Tish to be there at the last major event of the week, but it was medical themed party specifically targeted at BL first year medical and dentistry students.  When they got to the pub, the party was already in full swing.  Some of the partygoers were dressed as doctors or patients, a few going as far as to sport fake injuries.  Molly spotted a group drinking off-coloured drinks from test tubes near the bar.

“So then…”  Oliver looked from girl to girl.  “Drinks all around?”

“Water for me,” Rita requested.

“Everyone else drinking?”

Julia shrugged.  “Might as well.”

Molly nodded towards the test tubes.  “But maybe not _those_ drinks.”

“Are those jellies?” Martha asked with a scrunched nose as a bloke wearing a lab coat and a toy stethoscope walked past with a tray of assorted coloured jellies. 

“Not just any jellies,” the bloke holding the tray replied as he turned towards them.  “Vodka jellies.”

“Is that you, Harper?”  Oliver asked.

The other man frowned.  “Morgenstern?”

Rita glanced at Oliver.  “I take it you two know each other?”

“Yea, that’s Owen Harper.  We used to be mates,” Oliver answered.

Owen scoffed.  “I don’t know it’d go _that_ far.  Sometimes we’d piss about in year 11.  That’s all.”

“Until he pissed off before sixth form,” Oliver continued.  “Is it true your mum kicked you out?”  Owen’s jaw clenched at the question.

“So are you gonna give us a taste or not?” Martha asked suddenly.

Owen looked at Martha with a suspicious frown.  “Sorry?”

Martha pointed to the tray.  “Vodka jellies.”

Owen visually relaxed and thrust the tray forward.  “You can have a taste of whatever you like, sweetheart,” he offered with a cheeky grin.

Martha rolled her eyes.  “Just the jellies are enough,” she insisted, taking one and stepping around him.

“What I don’t even get a name?” Owen pressed, following Martha with his eyes.

“She’s Martha,” Julia told him as she helped herself to a jelly.  “That’s Rita, Molly and I’m Julia.”

“Thank you, Julia,” Owen replied.  “Just for that, you get two.”

“Cheers,” Julia said as she grabbed a second jelly.

Owen swung the tray in Rita’s direction but she shook her head.  “I don’t drink,” she informed him.

“What about you, little mouse?”  Owen turned his eyes on Molly.  “Molly was it?  Do you drink?  Better yet, do you talk or do you just stand there looking cute?”

Molly flushed slightly at the compliment and tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Yes.”

Owen flashed a smile at her.  “There’s an answer, but to which question?”

“I drink,” Molly clarified.

“Good.”  Owen shoved the tray into Oliver’s hands.  “I have just the thing for you.  C’mon.”  He nodded his head towards the bar.

Molly stared at him, feeling a bit startled that he had singled her out.  She glanced at Martha, who offered a shrug before following Owen over to the bar.  Thankfully, the others trailed closely behind.  Olivier looked particularly annoyed.

“Judging by your choice of company,” Owen began with a quick glance at Oliver as he reached for a shot glass.  “You seem like someone who enjoys a cerebral haemorrhage,” he joked, passing the glass to Molly.

Molly glanced down at it apprehensively.  It was mostly red, which she imagine was to represent the blood, with a little lighter coloured blob that vaguely resembled a brain suspended in the liquid.  “What’s in it?”

“Irish cream, strawberry schnapps and grenadine,” Owen answered before knocking one back quickly.  Molly gave it a sniff and immediately wrinkled her nose.

“If you won’t have it, I will,” Julia offered after finishing off the second of her vodka jellies.

Molly cast a quick glance at Owen before handing the shot off to Julia, who drank it down without hesitation.

“How about one of these instead?” Oliver cut in, passing Molly one of the test tubes she had rejected earlier.

Up close it didn’t look as insidious as it had from across the pub, in fact, they were strangely pretty.  They were bright blue with thin red streaking in the centre that weaved through the liquid like a double helix.  “It’s DNA!” Molly marvelled as she took the test tube from Ollie.

“Fruity,” Julia observed as she drank one those as well.

“Maybe you should pace yourself, yea?” Martha suggested.

“I really don’t want to have to carry you back to the hall,” Rita agreed as she led Julia over to a table of snacks to get some food into her system.

“Where are you lot staying?” Owen questioned.

“International Hall,” Molly answered between sips from her test tube.  Julia was right.  It did taste fruity.  There was definitely strawberry and pineapple and a note of nothing else, citrus maybe.

“Small world,” Owen said. “I’m at Connaught Hall.”

“Too bloody small,” Ollie muttered under his breath.

“We’re practically neighbours then,” Martha commented.

Owen gave Martha a long appraising look.  “Can I expect some late night revisions then?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

“Why?  Don’t think you can cut it on your own?” Martha shot back.

“Maybe I’m just trying to share the gift of my knowledge with the world,” Owen suggested.

Martha scoffed.  “Something tells me that’s not the only thing you want to share.”

Owen shrugged casually.  “If you’re taking, I’m giving.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Martha retorted.

“The offer is always on the table,” Owen insisted as he made himself comfortable on a barstool.  “Same goes for you, little mouse.”  He winked at Molly and she felt her cheeks getting warm all over again.

“C’mon,” Martha said.  Grabbing a test tube with one hand and Molly with the other, she tugged her towards where Julia and Rita were sitting.  “That boy is trouble with a capital T.”

Molly didn’t need to be told that much.  She never had a boyfriend or even a proper crush when she was in school, but she still recognised the type.  And yet, of all the boys like Owen she had known over the years, none of them had ever given Molly a second glance.  Other than Ollie, and to a lesser extent Owen, Molly hadn’t really spent much time with boys her age in social settings at all.  “He’s probably just all talk,” she insisted as they reached the table where the other girls sat.

“Who’s all talk?” Julia asked between nibbles of crisps.

“Ollie’s mate Owen,” Molly answered.

Rita glanced in the boys’ direction.  They were having a conversation, but neither seemed to enjoy each other’s company very much.  “They don’t look like mates to me.  Ollie seems like he can barely stand him.”

“Ollie’s the one that made that snide comment about his mum,” Julia pointed out.

“That was a bit rude, wasn’t it?” Molly agreed with a frown.  “Ollie’s usually so nice.”

Julia looked at Molly with a smile.  “You know what that was about, yea?”

Molly shook her slowly.  “Why would I?”

“Because he’s trying to save face,” Rita supplied.

Molly frowned.  “Ollie doesn’t have to try and impress us.”

“Not us, love,” Martha insisted.  “You.”

Molly stared at her in disbelief.  “Me?”

“Ollie fancies you,” Rita said.

Julia nodded.  “Obviously.”

“Me and…Ollie?” Molly questioned.

“Better him than that Owen,” Martha chimed with a glance in the boys’ direction.

“I dunno, he’s a bit fit, isn’t he?” Julia said of Owen.

“They’re both distractions, if you ask me,” Rita replied before popping a crisp in her mouth.

“Yea…” Molly said half-heartedly.  When she turned their way, Oliver and Owen acknowledged her with a smile and a wink respectfully.  She, in turn, gave a tiny wave.   She turned her attention back to the girls and shoved a handful of crisps into her mouth.

So Ollie fancied her.  And Owen…well who knew what he was about.  He showed her a lot of attention, but he had shown just as much, if not more to Martha.  It was confusing and Rita was right about it being a distraction.  Still.  She glanced at them both once more, feeling secretly pleased to have received the attention of two men.  Like Martha said, once things started up, she wouldn’t have time to worry about such things.

‘Might as well enjoy it while I can,’ Molly thought to herself.


	3. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly learns a lot during her first year of medical school, but the biggest lesson is about humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Molly's thoughts about dealing with human remains for the first time, so there's talk about bones and corpses. None of the description are graphic, but I figured I'd offer up a fair warning just in case anyone triggers easily.

Molly was more than happy to bid goodbye to the haze that was fresher’s week.  The parties had been fun and she did make some new friends, but none of that was what she had come to London for.  The morning after the do for the BL medical students, all the first years were summoned to the Director of Studies office.  Molly was glad that she’d not had much to drink the night before.  Julia was rather good at holding her drink, but even she looked a little less than steady.

Molly leaned in close to Martha.  “Do you know what this is about?” she asked nervously.  It couldn’t have been too serious.  They hadn’t been there long enough to break any rules.

Martha gave a quick shrug.  “I’m not really sure, but they seem to be bit hush hush about, don’t they?”  Molly nodded in agreement.  “I did hear one of the older students say it was some sort of tradition though.”

“A tradition?”

“Yea.  Apparently it’s something that all first years go through.”

Molly tired not to let that vagueness of the statement further fray her nerves.  It was easier said than done, especially with an imagination as active as hers.  One by one, she noticed students in her year disappear only to return carrying rattling shoeboxes.  The first person she recognised to receive theirs was Owen.  She stopped him from passing with a hand to his arm.  “Owen.”

Owen paused for a second before the realisation washed over his face.  “Little mouse?”  For lack of better response, Molly nodded her confirmation.  “Hey.”  He glanced in Martha’s direction.  “And you brought you mate as well.”

“Where else would I be?”  Martha countered.  “We were all summoned.”

“Speaking of which,” Molly cut in quickly.  She pointed a finger at the object he was carrying.  “What’s in the box?”

Owen shifted the shoebox so that it was under his arm and out of Molly’s reach.  “I’m not supposed to say.”

Martha scoffed softly.  “You actually follow the rules?”

“When it suits,” Own responded with a wink.  Martha rolled her eyes.

“Couldn’t you give us a teeny tiny hint?” Molly asked hopefully.  She tried to exude the same level of confidence she had seen in Tish, who had no problem batting her lashes and bending blokes to her will.  Molly was positive that she was failing in that regard.

Or perhaps she wasn’t.

Owen suddenly leaned forward, brushed Molly’s long hair aside and whispered close to her ear.  “I hope you like pick and mix.”

If this was the night before, Molly probably would have gone a bit weak in the knee at Owen’s proximity and the intimacy of the gesture.  As it were, her sense of curiosity seemed to supersede such inclinations.  “Pick and mix?” she repeated with a frown.  But she didn’t have a chance to question him further because it was suddenly her turn.

Molly was escorted into a small room down from where the other where the first years were gathered.  Inside the room, there was a long table laden with boxes, behind which sat a woman looking severely put upon.  “Name?” she demanded.

“Molly Hooper.”

The woman consulted her list before gesturing disinterestedly towards the boxes.  Molly selected one at random and was dismissed unceremoniously with only a terse instruction to return the box at the end of the academic year.  On her way out, Molly saw Martha being led down the hall.  It made sense that she’d be soon to follow.  Their class was small and Harper, Hooper, and Jones were all fairly close alphabetically.

Molly briefly considered waiting for Martha to return so they could open their boxes together, but her curiosity couldn’t be denied any longer.  She tucked herself into a quiet corner that was visible enough for Martha to find her easily.  Then after a deep breath, Molly flipped the lid of her box open and found a collection of bones inside.

It wasn’t the first time Molly had encountered real human bones.  The science labs at school had skeletons.  This was, however, the first time Molly had been personally placed in charge of said bones.  Her hope was to specialise in pathology.  So in essence, this was just the first of many people whose lives would be put into her hands.  Although first might not have been the most accurate description.  Once Molly and the others in her group had a chance to compare notes, it became apparent that each box contained a variety of parts from a variety of people.  In Owen’s words, it was sort of a pick and mix of human remains.

Molly couldn’t help wondering who these people had been before they died.  What were their stories?  Had they been ill?  Were there any accidents?  Perhaps some amongst them had simply died of old age.  Were any of them very young?  What were their names?  What did they do with their lives prior to death?  Did they just suddenly decide to donate their bodies to science one day?  Had they made that decision themselves or was it the wish of their families as well?  Did they even have families?  The questions were endless.

As the term progressed, Molly felt rather attached to her bones, the skull in particular which she took to call him Yorick for lack of a better alternative.  On more than one occasion, one of her mates had stopped by her room only to find Molly in deep conversation with Yorick.

“Talking to him helps me think,” Molly told Rita when the other girl walked in on her reciting the steps of glycolysis to the skull in preparation for their biochemistry lecture.

“Along as it doesn’t answer you back,” Rita quipped.

Molly smiled at Yorick.  “That would be a bit difficult without his mandible.”

In addition to biochemistry, their schedule was comprised of modules on anatomy, physiology, and histology, which were taught through a combination of practicals and lectures.  Molly loved her histology course because she was always rather fond of laboratories and microscopes.  There would definitely be plenty more of them in her future and, in a dream world, she might even be in charge of her own lab one day.  She had to finish her studies first though.

The physiology lectures were interesting even though their professor seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice.  Otherwise, the most noteworthy event was an incident that arose between Ollie and Owen during a practical experiment on hypoxia.  The boys had gotten a little too thorough in their attempts to suffocate each other when Dr Sullivan asked for volunteers to demonstrate how the level of carbon dioxide in the blood produced the primary stimulus for hyperventilation.

Molly thoroughly enjoyed her anatomy practicals as well.  The class was split into small groups.  Hers consisted of herself, Martha, Julia, Rita and Owen, who purposefully joined their group before Ollie had a chance.  Ollie spent the whole year bitterly throwing death stares in Owen’s during their dissection sessions.  No one pay him much mind, least of all Molly, who focused all her attention on Ethel, the cadaver that had been assigned to their group.

It was quite remarkable just how much fat lay beneath the surface of the skin, even for a tiny little old lady like Ethel.  All of which needed to be scrapped away to get to the muscles and organs and other parts they’d spend the year learning about in detail.  After each session, all the parts they removed had to be gathered and collected into a plastic bucket so that Ethel could be buried whole when the time came.  Molly always felt guilty whenever she found bits of fascia and unidentifiable tissues that attached themselves to her lab coat during class as if she were somehow personally robbing Ethel of complete absolution.

At the end of the year, Molly was forced to bid farewell to both Yorick and Ethel.  The anatomy department held a ceremony of sorts where the students had a chance to meet the families of their cadavers.  For most, the whole ordeal was understandably awkward.  How did one approach making small talk when one spent a year systematically dissecting someone’s loved one?  For Molly, it was a chance to fill in the blanks.

For all that she would never know about Yorick, Molly learned a lot about Ethel.  She was more than just a corpse doused in formaldehyde and laid out on a metal trolley.  In life, Ethel had been a school teacher.  She taught kindergarten for forty years before retiring after her husband’s death to spend more time with her children and grandchildren.  She loved horses and chocolate while she hated courgettes and spiders.  She was left handed and near-sighted.  And once upon a time, Ethel had met the recently departed Princess of Wales at a school in Pimlico back when she was still just Lady Diana Spencer.

Molly really did learn a lot from Yorick and Ethel during her first year, but perhaps the biggest lesson of all was one about humanity.  She was floored over the generosity of the people who donated their bodies to science.  Any achievements she made in her future as a doctor would be because of their selfless gift.   In their honour, Molly vowed never to forget their sacrifice and to treat each patient in her care with complete and the utmost respect, whether they be living or deceased.


End file.
